


after ours

by sieges



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Getting Together, High School, M/M, in three particular moments, what it means to be with someone despite spending your entire life alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sieges/pseuds/sieges
Summary: What it means to be with someone.
Relationships: Iizuna Tsukasa/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 32
Kudos: 136





	after ours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitcassiachan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcassiachan/gifts).



> my best friend last july 1 while i was crying to them abt iizusaku: U FOUND LIKE... THE SIDEST PAIRING EVER
> 
> me, already searching on prompt memes and au generators to shove iizusaku into: stfu
> 
> anyways. im coming out and saying that i love this rarepair so much and i wrote this in a fever dream amidst my excessive school stress. huge thanks to dan for being my best friend and tolerating all my sobbing over a ship they dont care abt. and kit, this is for you, because (1) i owe you a bday present and (2) you like iizuna and support my soft sakusa agenda. im sorry its not atsuhina HAHAHA
> 
> song for the fic: [bad girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3lxp7WVXiXU) by lee moses

Itachiyama has a garden filled with stone benches that overlooks a small pond of koi fish. Even though the school has an explicit rule to not throw anything into the water, coins of different colors and values have sunken to the bottom as the fish swim above it, a gesture made by students passing by hoping that their wishes could be granted. 

Motoya once joked in their first year that they should snatch the coins there and use it to buy things from the corner store that their pocket change couldn’t afford. Kiyoomi’s only reply had been that he doubted that coins underwater made them any cleaner. He hadn’t cared much to find out if he was right or not. 

On a late afternoon of a Tuesday, the last day of school before winter break, Kiyoomi, seated on one of the benches, watches Tsukasa stop right by the pond to toss a coin before finally approaching him. Kiyoomi doesn’t check the time on his watch because he already knows it’s nearing five. 

“What?” Tsukasa says, noticing the way Kiyoomi stares at him. “Spring High is next week. It’s for luck.”

“We worked hard though,” Kiyoomi points out. “We don’t need luck.”

Tsukasa shrugs. “You never know with these things.”

Kiyoomi stares at the pond. He’s always found the wish-making pointless because he knows the other students would wish for the same three things over and over again, like simply wishing would solve their problems instead of actually trying to do something. Good grades and good relationships are the most popular ones, but good grades happen because of hard work and Motoya's older sister more or less said the same thing about relationships. _It’s all about effort_ , she said, even though real life didn’t really give you points for effort if there was no result. 

Still, he supposes that there might be merit to wishes. Sometimes, after everything’s been exhausted, there’s nothing left to do but hope for the best. 

“You’re thinking of something deep,” Tsukasa notes. Kiyoomi’s eyes flicker to him. Tsukasa’s smile is warm and easygoing as he looks down at him. Kiyoomi’s taller, but it’s never made Tsukasa feel any less larger. “Did waiting for me bore you that much?”

“You didn’t take long,” Kiyoomi answers. The novel in his lap had been more than enough to help him kill time, and only fifteen minutes had passed. Tsukasa asked for half an hour to talk with his friends. Kiyoomi has a feeling Tsukasa only asked for that much time just to make it look like he’d finish early. It’s the kind of thing Kiyoomi normally find annoying, but instead, he just finds it clever. 

If anyone asked, he'd say it was a uniquely Tsukasa thing to do, to _be._ Motoya once pointed out that the only thing _unique_ was the way Kiyoomi saw him. 

Kiyoomi closes the book. He rubs his fingers together, realizing that he’s colder than he thought. Despite the winter season, the weather isn’t as bad as it usually is every year, so he hadn’t thought to bring mittens.

“I didn’t expect you to wait for me, actually,” Tsukasa admits. With his blazer unbuttoned, the creases on his blouse become more obvious. Kiyoomi wants to reach out and smoothen them, but he doesn’t. “Let’s go someplace warmer.”

They don’t actually go far, finding themselves under the roof of the open hallway right beside the garden that connects the canteen to the classroom of the first-years. There’s a vending machine against a pillar and Tsukasa ends up buying a drink while Kiyoomi shakes off the snow from his boots. 

“You sure you don’t want one?”

“Everything tastes like water,” Kiyoomi replies. After Tsukasa retrieves his drink from the take-out port, Kiyoomi takes out the CDs from his back. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Tsukasa says, accepting them. Kiyoomi almost thinks he’s going to tuck them over his arm, which he’d hate, because those are his recordings and he doesn’t want them to get damaged, but instead, Tsukasa tucks his canned drink under his arm to put the CDs inside his bag. “Do you really not need them for the break?”

“They’d be more useful with you.” A breeze blows past them, and Kiyoomi barely manages to suppress a shiver. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his blazer, but it doesn’t really do much because they’re too small. “You’re captain, not me.”

“Being captain doesn’t really mean anything,” says Tsukasa, opening the can. “It’s not like you can’t give opinions of your own for how we should go about strategy. You don’t need to be captain for that.”

“I know,” Kiyoomi says mildly. Then, “We have to focus more on defense with Inarizaki. Their middle blocker is a headache.”

Tsukasa gives an approving hum as he starts to nearly chug down the beverage. It’s one of those hot chocolate drinks, but Kiyoomi has never thought they were worth the purchase because they taste terrible and are technically only good for keeping you warm. If Kiyoomi was someone a lot less conscious about his expenses, he would’ve bought one just for his hands. 

He’s tempted to ask Tsukasa if he can borrow the can for a few seconds, but with the way Tsukasa drinks it hurriedly, as if he’s parched and his tongue is unaffected by the heat, it’ll probably be finished before Kiyoomi can even get the words out.

Instead, his gaze lingers on the way Tsukasa’s Adam’s apple bobs with each gulp. There had been a rumor that Tsukasa got scouted in his second year of high school by a modeling agency. It’s not really a thought Kiyoomi indulges in often because appearances are a shallow thing in the grander scheme of things, but occasionally, there will be moments when he recalls it.

This is Iizuna Tsukasa and he is handsome. The rumor, true or not, doesn’t really change this in Kiyoomi’s eyes. 

“Wow,” He deadpans when Tsukasa manages to drink everything in one go. 

“What?” Tsukasa asks, lowering the can. He crushes it before tossing it in the trash bin. Kiyoomi tries not to eye it mournfully. “I have to go in a bit. My class is thinking about building snowmen in the soccer field. For memories.”

He sounds apologetic. Kiyoomi doesn’t get why when it’s not like they met for any other reason besides the CDs. “Okay.” 

"Are you going home?"

Home. This is the third thing he knows people wish for a lot. Itachiyama takes in more country kids than other schools, and every time a break inches near, it would be common to pass by the koi fish pond and hear students loudly and desperately praying for the opportunity to come home. Train fares are expensive and schoolwork doesn't die down just because there's no school to attend. Kiyoomi knows that whenever they return home, they're always reluctant to leave. They would say, even though Kiyoomi doesn't mean to hear, even though he sometimes doesn't want to, _it's the breeze in the quiet afternoon. It's waking up to creaks on the floorboards because the house is full of life and you only really rest when you're dead. It's slipping into the kitchen to find your mother chopping vegetables in the kitchen and your father trying to use the daylight to read his newspaper instead of switching the light on to save on electricity. It's the pictures plastered on the walls and the sounds that bounce around because the space is cramped but it's overflowing with warmth._

It's not something Kiyoomi understands in a personal sense. His home has never been a place to return to, made of quiet wooden flooring and empty walls. The light is always on but not even a shadow stays. The loudest noise that can echo in a four-bedroom-turned-storage-place apartment is his own thoughts.

Kiyoomi says, "Where else would I go?"

Tsukasa gives him a look. “Do you want to join?”

"I don't want your pity."

"I'm not nice enough for that," Tsukasa points out, unaffected by his harsh tone.

“I'm okay.” Kiyoomi takes a step back. He's aware he'd be miserable if he went with them anyway. The weather is bitingly cold and Tsukasa would be the only familiar thing in a sea of strangers, and even though it’s nice to have something to keep him grounded, it’s not worth dragging someone else down with him. “If that’s all, then. I’ll see you for Nationals, Iizuna-san."

He turns around, about to already go, when Tsukasa says, “Wait.”

Kiyoomi looks at him. Tsukasa takes out something from the side pocket of his bag. “Your hands are cold, right?” 

It’s a pair of gloves. He recognizes the brand because they make really hideous colors, but this one is gray and simple. Kiyoomi stares at it for longer than he has to, considering that it’s not an object that changes as time passes. Eventually, he gazes back up at Tsukasa. His hands are bare. “Don’t you need them?”

“This is an extra pair,” Tsukasa answers. “They’re clean too. Smell it.”

“I’m not going to smell it,” Kiyoomi says, but he takes the gloves anyway and immediately, he’s hit with the faint fragrance that lingers in the fabric. It smells, predictably, like Tsukasa’s detergent. Like _Tsukasa_. “Thank you.”

Tsukasa nods. “You can give it back when we see each other again. Or not.”

Kiyoomi gives him a funny look. “Of course I’ll return it.” He has no reason to keep things that belong to someone else. “Have a good break, Iizuna-san.”

What Tsukasa gives him isn’t really a smile, but it’s close enough to it. Somehow, it still manages to make something stir in Kiyoomi. “You too, Sakusa.”

It’s only when they part and Kiyoomi slips the gloves on that he realizes, despite his claims, he doesn’t actually want to give them back. 

* * *

Kiyoomi doesn’t know who he’s fooling when he wanders to the local hospital on a Sunday afternoon when the path he usually takes to get to places has never involved this route. Right as he finds himself standing in front of the hospital, contemplating between actually entering or pretending like he’s passing by, Tsukasa emerges from the entrance. He startles when he sees Kiyoomi. 

“Sakusa,” Tsukasa begins. “What are you doing here?”

Without meaning to, Kiyoomi’s gaze drifts down. There are no crutches or cast, but Tsukasa’s in slippers and his ankle is wrapped in gauze tape, which is how Kiyoomi knows that the injury isn’t as bad as everyone was making it out to be. It’s probably just a sprain that briefly grew worse because Tsukasa insisted on walking to the bus himself after their loss back at Spring High. The only reason he didn’t make it all the way wasn’t because his leg gave out, but because their Coach pointed out that it was a poor show of leadership. Tsukasa may be persistent, but he isn’t stubborn. There’s a difference, apparently, one Kiyoomi hadn’t known until he met him. 

“There’s a coffee shop that I like that’s along the way,” Kiyoomi lies. 

“Oh, perfect,” Tsukasa says. “I’ll go with you. I need some caffeine in my system after today.”

Kiyoomi knows Tsukasa isn’t gullible enough to believe him, and it’s not like he’s ever been the greatest liar. He’s never found the need to lie until now. And even then, he doesn’t think this is lying. This is just withholding the truth—whatever that truth may be. 

He nods instead, deciding not to question Tsukasa’s easy acceptance. “Okay.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t know any coffee shops along the street, doesn’t even know what this road has to offer besides the hospital itself. If Tsukasa notices the way Kiyoomi purposely walks slow, he doesn’t comment on it, but maybe that’s because he assumes Kiyoomi’s doing it out of consideration for his inability to keep up with a normal pace rather than because Kiyoomi doesn’t know where to go. 

Tsukasa doesn’t make it obvious how he’s dragging his feet, but it doesn’t mean Kiyoomi doesn’t notice. His hands twitch with the urge to do something, but he can’t think of what. 

“You don’t have to feel bad for me,” Tsukasa eventually says. 

“I don’t,” Kiyoomi immediately says. He means it. He knows Tsukasa should know this, because that’s what he told him before on the day they lost against Inubushi East. 

“So why were you there?” Tsukasa asks, because of course he doesn’t actually buy Kiyoomi’s poor excuse. His tone isn’t accusing though, just curious. 

_Because you were there_ , Kiyoomi thinks, plain and simple. But despite his sharp tongue, this doesn’t feel like the kind of thing he can freely say. It’s not fear, he thinks, because he’s never been afraid to be honest. It’s just being unprepared, and he doesn’t like things when they aren’t ready because it just means he can give more but hasn't. Half-hearted efforts, like copying a nursery rhyme when your music teacher instructs you to write lyrics to a song, or receiving a creased birthday card with the date a year late along with a jacket that would fit if you were still eleven and not sixteen. 

“My older sister did her residency there before she moved to Hokkaido,” Kiyoomi answers.

Tsukasa hums. “So you waited for her a lot and couldn’t break the habit?”

“I never waited for her,” he replies. “I just wanted to know what it was like.” What it must be like to return to someone, the idea and beauty of it that he can’t quite understand but imagine and crave. 

“That makes sense,” Tsukasa says, after a long period of silence. It doesn’t sound like he’s saying it for the sake of it, but like he’s given it thought. Kiyoomi doesn’t know if that’s any better, the realization that Tsukasa actually took his words to heart when these are things that have lost meaning to Kiyoomi long ago. “It’s the illusion of having something to return to.”

It’s not what Kiyoomi expects him to say. “Yeah,” he breathes out, feeling slightly winded. “Exactly like that.”

They end up in a coffee shop by the corner of the street. Tsukasa raises an eyebrow. 

“What?” Kiyoomi asks. 

“I didn’t know you liked it here,” Tsukasa comments. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t. He’s never even stepped inside this shop before, and the only reason he chose it is because they’re by the end of the street and he hadn’t found anything else. He’s about to reach for the door when Tsukasa blurts out, “Sakusa, I know that you’ve never been in this coffee shop.”

He stops. “Okay.”

“You—right. Alright,” Tsukasa says patiently. “You’re a shitty liar. I’ve been here before, and you’d hate their tea. You’re basically paying 300 yen for hot water.”

It’s funny. It shouldn’t be, but it is, and Kiyoomi’s lips slightly curl up. “Iizuna-san, you don’t drink caffeine.”

Tsukasa’s eyes widen when he realizes his mistake. “Oh. Oh, _fuck_. Shit.”

Kiyoomi bites his lip to stop himself from smiling. Tsukasa glances through the window of the shop. “It’s pretty full anyway,” he says. 

“You’re right,” Kiyoomi agrees. He wonders if this is where they’ll part. He doesn’t want to, because that’s why he still pretended even though he knew Tsukasa saw through him. A part of him questions why. 

_Why are you still here?_ A voice in him questions. _Is it because you have nothing to return to?_

“Hey,” Tsukasa starts. “I know this small bookshop five blocks away.” 

Kiyoomi stares at him. “You’re injured.” 

“It’s not as bad as you think,” argues Tsukasa. “Just needs some getting used to. But that shop has a small cafe you can stay in where you can read the books you’ve bought or rented. They have good tea. You’d like it. It’s sweet.”

“You shouldn’t push yourself,” Kiyoomi says instead of telling him, _you should go home_ , because he’s more selfish than he gives himself credit for. He doesn’t know how Tsukasa knows he likes his tea sweet. Motoya used to say it was one of the most surprising things about him. 

Tsukasa tilts his head. “I was going to go there whether or not I saw you.”

The difference between persistence and stubbornness. “I didn’t know you liked books.”

“My aunt works in a publishing company. Some classics are pretty interesting,” Tsukasa admits. “I know you like reading, but I never asked. What kind?”

“Graphic novels.”

That makes Tsukasa laugh, for some reason, like he didn’t expect Kiyoomi to say that. Kiyoomi has never been a humorous person and has never wanted to be, but he knows that the first time he saw Tsukasa make that bright expression, he thought, _I want to make him like that too._

“Recommend me some?” Tsukasa asks. 

The way he offers makes Kiyoomi realize that he has no reason to make it hard. “Okay.” 

Kiyoomi has never believed people could be the kind of thing you come back to—and how could they be, when he’s never really had people in his life who stayed in the first place—but as he and Tsukasa start to walk down to the shop, their shoulders brush, faint and unintentional and meaningful. Kiyoomi thinks about how these sensations and moments could become memories, and he thinks about how they could be things he could look back on and dwell in like a home of their own. 

_Why are you here?_ It asks. _Is it because you have nothing to return to?_

He ignores the voice. It has no room to make a home in his mind when Tsukasa’s is loud and clear. 

* * *

When Kiyoomi steps into the corner store at fifteen minutes before midnight, it’s not actually because he wants to buy anything. 

He hadn’t planned on coming here. Nights like these, he’s always spent at home, trying to accomplish schoolwork or reading a book or occasionally replying to Motoya’s long string of messages until he tires himself out and falls asleep mid-conversation with Kiyoomi before the stroke of midnight. It should just be like any other night, Kiyoomi thinks, because he never does anything particularly special, but for some reason, rest has always been hard to find. 

Tonight wasn’t really any different, because he still slipped on his shoes and left the apartment to go for a jog around the area. The air was chilly but the snow was almost non-existent, the world slowly making its way for the spring. The notion of a new beginning didn’t really mean anything to him besides the fact that he had to clean the apartment again to adjust to the changes. He was the same person as he always was, living through the same events and experiences every year with only a few stumbles and surprises along the way. 

Tonight wasn’t really any different since this was the route he always took and he did it every year, but somehow it _was_ different, because when he rounded the corner, he nearly collided into _Tsukasa_. 

“ _Whoa,_ " Tsukasa said, while all Kiyoomi could do was stop and stare at him wide-eyed, completely caught off guard. “Sakusa, what are you doing here? It’s late.”

“Went on a run,” Kiyoomi found himself replying. He gave himself an additional moment to let it soak in, that Tsukasa was right in front of him. Just like Kiyoomi, he wore a large hoodie, but instead of jogging pants, he was in basketball shorts. He always was good at handling the cold. Tsukasa’s hair was damp under the street light. “Did you?”

“No.” Tsukasa’s hand touched his hair, like he knew what Kiyoomi was thinking about. “Freshly showered. I live along this block.”

“Oh.” Kiyoomi wouldn’t actually know. He never walked home with Tsukasa before. Whenever they were together, they parted ways at certain landmarks and Kiyoomi didn’t necessarily pay attention to anything else besides the trek home. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

It took him a beat to reply. “Restless.”

Tsukasa smiled slightly, like he understood the feeling. “How often do you do this?” he asked. “Go on runs during late nights?”

“Not that often,” Kiyoomi said. Just once a year. Just to clear his head. Just to take time to accept what he told himself he accepted long ago. An empty home, a stream of texts, sparse greetings. It was mundane, but it was probably the only kind he couldn’t appreciate completely. 

Tsukasa’s expression was thoughtful, but not curious enough to press for more. 

“You’re lucky we don’t have classes tomorrow,” Tsukasa said. “Are you heading home?”

Kiyoomi shrugged. “I’m supposed to.”

“I’m going somewhere,” Tsukasa told him. “Come with?”

He never phrased these kinds of things like real questions, like he wasn’t really offering because already he knew the answer. Kiyoomi had always hated the idea of presuming, but he didn’t hate Tsukasa’s certainty. A Tsukasa thing to do. 

Again, Motoya's words echoed. 

This is how Kiyoomi and Tsukasa find themselves in the corner store a few minutes later. Inside, trending pop songs from last year play dimly from the speakers. Kiyoomi only recognizes them because his shared playlist with Motoya is full of them. The woman behind the cashier is in her mid-twenties looks surprised when the door swings open, but the expression fades when she sees who it is and she disappears into the staff room. Tsukasa doesn’t really pay her any mind. 

“What are we doing here?” Kiyoomi asks, following Tsukasa as he walks down the aisles. 

Tsukasa doesn’t answer, more preoccupied with picking out items from the shelves to put into the basket he carries. “Do you want anything?” he says instead. 

“No,” Kiyoomi says. There’s a stepping stool at the end of the aisle, so he takes off his hoodie and folds it to place on the stool so he can sit down without worrying about the dirt. When he watches Tsukasa, he almost thinks there’s a bounce in his step, like he’s in a good mood. “Did something happen today?”

They don’t have practice anymore, so Kiyoomi has no reason to see him. Still, it’s always been hard to pass by the school halls they share and not recognize the familiar slicked back hair and bright eyes that doesn’t pay any mind to him. It’s always been hard to not wonder what it would be like for their eyes to meet, simply by pure coincidence. It’s always been hard to accept that one day, Kiyoomi will walk down the corridor and not find any trace of him left. 

March has always been the coldest month to Kiyoomi in ways that have never been physical, and the significance of spring only tells him that despite the idea of new beginnings and its beauty, it also means the end of other things, and it’s not something he finds charming in the slightest. 

“Hm,” Tsukasa says, like he’s thinking about it. What comes out instead of an answer though is, “What Pocky flavor do you want?”

“I don’t want Pocky,” Kiyoomi replies, but Tsukasa is still holding two different flavors in his hands, indecisive on what to choose, so he ends up blurting out, “I like the normal one.”

Tsukasa puts that in the basket. It takes a lot in Kiyoomi to not roll his eyes in mild exasperation. When Tsukasa is finally done filling the basket to the brim, he walks over to Kiyoomi and sets it down beside him. Kiyoomi recognizes a chunk of the snacks chosen, feeling slightly surprised that he and Tsukasa have the same preferences. 

“You eat a lot,” he ends up saying. “Are you done?”

“Not yet,” Tsukasa says, but he doesn’t make any leave to go explore the rest of the store. “This isn’t why we’re here.”

Kiyoomi makes a face because he doesn’t understand and it frustrates him slightly. “So why are we here?”

Tsukasa glances at his watch before looking up, almost as if he’s anticipating something to happen. “It should come any minute now. You’ll know.” 

Before Kiyoomi can ask, a song trickles in and echoes in the room. It’s louder compared to the muted pop music that had been playing earlier, music with a style that uses trumpets and saxophones and piano riffs that Kiyoomi can faintly name as _soul_. The rhythm is awfully good, and Tsukasa grins broadly, feeling the rhythm too as he taps his foot. 

“Iizuna-san—” Kiyoomi starts. 

“Can I?” Tsukasa interrupts, stretching out his hands towards Kiyoomi. He’s reluctant to take it. He knows how this goes because he’s seen it in the movies, but he doesn’t see himself as the main protagonist of an epic adventure of the love interest of Tsukasa’s hero journey. This isn’t a film where things fall into place with ease and with frequency They aren't dating. He doesn’t even like dancing. 

Except this is real life and everything is a result of effort. He knows, even though Tsukasa hides it well, that what’s happening right now is a result of his intervention— insisting Kiyoomi come with him, biding his time until this very moment, patiently responding to Kiyoomi’s restlessness. They may not be dating but it doesn’t mean that Kiyoomi can’t want and it doesn’t mean he can’t try to _have_. He doesn’t like dancing, but he does want to know what it’s like to feel Tsukasa’s hands against his own. 

Part of effort is compromise. Despite his apprehension, Kiyoomi reaches out and clasps them. 

Tsukasa’s grin grows even brighter and it makes Kiyoomi’s feel breathless. There’s a force in the elder’s hold, but he doesn’t pull Kiyoomi up to stand and dance. Instead, he adjusts the position of their hands and makes his grip firmer before he begins to sway to the song. Kiyoomi’s cheeks turn red from embarrassment even though the movements are small and Tsukasa is the one making a fool of himself in a public place. 

Still, they’re the only ones in the corner store. Still, despite the hallway looks and split-second wishes, Tsukasa is looking right at him at this very moment. Still, even though he's the only one dancing and all Kiyoomi is doing is holding his hands, he looks like he's happy. 

"It was an okay day today," Tsukasa tells him through the music, almost idly. "But it wasn't good, so every time I have days like that, I go here and dance."

"To feel good?"

"To feel better," Tsukasa replies. "It's a nice song, right?" 

it is, Kiyoomi thinks. He’s never been a fan of music, rarely lets himself indulge in it even though it could drown out the silence because it could never resonate with him the same way it has with others. This though—it's different. It’s easy going but hard to forget. He doesn’t understand the words but thinks he can grasp the meaning. It doesn’t drown out the silence, but it makes him feel like the silence isn’t worth paying attention to. 

"You're weird," Kiyoomi tells him. To go to a corner store not to buy anything, but to dance instead. He doesn't get it. "Why don't you dance at home?"

"I can't find this song anywhere but here," explains Tsukasa, still swaying. If Kiyoomi didn’t know any better, he’d question if Tsukasa was drunk. But the thing about alcohol is that it exists to lower inhibitions, and Tsukasa has never been afraid to be anything but himself, no matter how strange. "And it always plays this one at a specific time. 11:59.” 

“Huh.”

“It's not that deep, you know,” He adds, catching Kiyoomi’s expression. “The way I see it, you don't always need something big or meaningful to cheer you up or make you feel less lonely."

Kiyoomi blinks. "Are you lonely, Iizuna-san?"

"Not right now," Tsukasa answers easily. "Are you?"

From the corner of Kiyoomi's eye, he catches the snacks piled up in the basket and remembers that Tsukasa doesn't actually like Pocky. He sees a packet of sweet-flavored tea and recalls that Tsukasa can’t handle caffeine. He thinks about the gloves he never returned. He thinks about how he's not home and he's not alone, but more than that—that he's with Tsukasa. "No." 

Tsukasa's hands are kind. "Kiyoomi," he says, and Kiyoomi realizes that he likes it a lot more when Tsukasa uses his first name. "It's midnight. Happy birthday." The way he says—tender and light, like he knows it's not a big deal but it doesn't stop him from caring about it, causes something in Kiyoomi to bloom. "I had to get the list of snacks you liked from Komori. My treat." 

"I'm not actually going to eat them all,” Kiyoomi tells him. “But thank you. For everything." 

Tsukasa bends and leans close. Kiyoomi doesn’t pull back. “I haven’t done anything yet,” he says quietly. “Hey. Can I?”

Again, Kiyoomi doesn’t actually answer. Instead, he lifts his hand to cup Tsukasa’s cheek. Tsukasa's smile is disarming. The first time Kiyoomi saw Tsukasa make that bright expression, he thought, _I want to make him look like that too_. 

When Tsukasa kisses him, he wants to tell the person he was back then, _you can. You can, and you can do so much more._

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~(i'll beta this later lol)~~ i promise i will work harder to make something better next time, but i just really wanted to make a fic that had iizusaku dancing in a convenience store to bad girl by lee moses, and this is the sole reason this story was made. i think there is smth very gay abt sharing music with ur crush _*glances at my past fics*_
> 
> thank you for reading! [come talk to me if u want](https://curiouscat.me/sunaosa). i'm [@inarizakicks](https://twitter.com/inarizakicks) for twitter :>


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